End of the Line
by givemebackmysandwich
Summary: When Bucky ran away from home last year, Steve knew no one was ever going to find him unless Bucky wanted to be found. So when Steve sees his childhood friend show up at school one day, he couldn't be happier. But Bucky never wanted to be found, and the last thing he wants is Steve getting mixed up with someone like him. AU No Superpowers. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

End of the Line

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **Warnings, this story contains drug use, swearing, violence, abuse, possible rape in later chapters, possible slash in later chapters.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers of any of the characters**

Chapter 1

School started last Monday for everybody else, and by the look of the front doors, they'd been trying to wash away that paint for the past week. Maybe longer. You could still read it though. Even if the black spray paint was gone, they'd scrubbed at it too hard, and scratched the angry letters into the glass itself. Happened all the time when the better end of town got tagged. Rich people don't know shit about spray paint.

I pulled open the doors, the words 'Welcome to Hell' now etched deep into them, and joined the line. The buses dropped us off early, but already there were too many people lining the hall. Shifting my weight to my good leg, I fished out the paper from my pocket. The door behind me shut with a bang as more people pressed in. Felt like they were everywhere, all crammed into the same too small space. All talking, and laughing, and loud. Loud as a car crash.

There was only one way out, and there wasn't anything to do but wait. The room got hotter, too many bodies too close together. I balled the note up between my fist and the crutch. The ceiling was high, painted white with wood beams- all exposed and dusty. It was supposed to look nice. It looked like an unfinished attic.

"Next." I looked down, to the security guard waving a fat paw for me to move forward. His head looked too heavy for his thick neck, which looked too big for the collar of his shirt. I shuffled a few feet closer to him and the empty doorway. I'd been through a metal detector before, but that had been before everything had happened. Looking at the detector now, close up, it didn't look like either of us were gonna fit through it. Though, for different reasons.

"You got a note?" He barked.

I held out the uncomfortable little paper I'd crumpled in my fist. The guard unfolded and studied it through narrowed eyes, looking up from the note to give me a quick once over. Like he was trying to tell if the note was real. Like I would just show up in crutches and a full leg brace for the fuck of it.

"You James Barnes." It was supposed to be a question but it came out like an accusation.

You caught me, I just like stealing doctor's notes for the hell of it.

"Is this you?" He demanded, louder, turning the note back into my face.

I nodded.

"Alright, arms out, bag on the table." From a holster at his side, the guard pulled out a smaller metal detector, shaped like a flat kind of wand. Damn, this must be what it's like in an airport.

Awkwardly, I shifted the backpack onto the table where it slumped like an old sweater. It was the same standard issue black and grey bag they gave everyone at the home. Came with one notebook, one folder, two pencils- all metal free and cheap. School wasn't the only place that didn't trust us not to turn paperclips into projectiles.

"Hurry up, arms out," the guard sounded even more annoyed.

I obeyed, sticking my arms straight out from my body for him to wave the wand over. With the crutches under my arms and one good leg to stand on, I felt like the world's most idiotic imitation of an airplane. Which, I can't say I'd ever experienced before.

And to think, this was gonna happen every fucking day.

At least the hallway wasn't crowded behind me. Dozens of eyes boring into the back of my skull. Maybe if I broke my other leg they'd just give up on me entirely an-

"Clear," the guard announced, his face somehow more bored than before. "Move along." He pulled back a chain that connected the two doorway detectors, it wasn't much space, but it was better than the alternative. I pulled on my freshly ransacked bag, not even bothering to zip it up, and hobbled my way past the gates.

On the other side of the hallway, the school was more open. There were still people everywhere I looked, but they moved freely around each other. It was easier to breathe here, but the further away I got from the hall, the harder it was to move around. I had plenty of space to walk, even with the crutches, but that wasn't the problem.

I didn't need the stupid airplane routine to remind me I was the only entry in a 3-legged race, and I really didn't need the stares. And I could definitely feel them. They were less obvious than the ones before, stolen from behind lockers, out of the corners of eyes, but I could definitely feel them. It was like I'd decided to slit my wrist in a shark tank.

I focused on the floor, making my way for the homeroom one awkward step after another. I just needed to make it through.

 **Please Rate and Review and I'll try to have the next chapter up soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2** (Steve)

7:36am

I looked up from my wristwatch, down the crowded hall. Where were they?

The halls were alive with commotion and light. Large windows at the end of the building flooded the hall, lighting up everything from lockers to faces.

But still, I couldn't find them.

I looked up to the locker I'd been resting against. The number 158 was pressed into the fading green paint. It was the right one. All last week we kept missing each other, so we'd all agreed this was the new meet up spot. At least, I thought we had.

7:37am

If they didn't get here soon we'd never have a chance to talk to Mr. Erskine before first period. And at this point we might already be too late. The halls had filled up fast. Students weaving in and out and around each other, a flurry of different colored clothes and vibrant hair. They looked like feathers, like bright birds in flight. There were so many of them.

3,014 students in total. 739 in my class alone. There was no way I'd ever get to meet them all before graduation. But maybe, by the end of the year, if the elections went well, I'd be able to do something for them. Something to make a difference. Something to make things-

I stopped mid-thought when I saw him. His dark hair falling past his shoulders, his pale face, dark eyes… But, it couldn't be.

It couldn't be.

The crowd shifted and I couldn't see anymore. With the hospital and everything, it couldn't be him, I thought as I searched every face for another glimpse. It looked so much like him. But it couldn't-

"On your left." An arm bumped into mine out of nowhere and I turned to find Sam smiling at me. "What's up with you?"

I shook my head, laughing a bit. "Sorry."

"I texted you like, 10 minutes ago, to meet me out front," he said, stepping closer to his locker, hands spinning the padlock.

It couldn't have been him, I told myself again. But I couldn't help but turn back, to search the flock of color for his face.

"Why don't you have your phone?" I barely heard Sam over my thoughts.

"Uh, yeah it's school policy." There's no way it could have been him. Someone would have said something. It can't be him. "No phones on campus."

"Com'on Cap, you know no one follows that."

I turned around to face him, a little annoyed. "I'm only captain when we're in the water."

Sam laughed, unloading text books back into his locker. He had his bag awkwardly held between his elbow and the stack of books in his arms.

"Here, let me help." I reached out, taking Physics and Engineering from him. "What's this one for?" I asked.

"Engineering club." Sam grinned, "It's gonna be pretty cool this year, sounds like somebody got Stark to sign up."

I nodded. There's no way it was him. Yeah, maybe he'd be well enough to come back to school sometime, but not now. It was way too soon. And besides it's not like this is the first time I've thought I've seen him somewhere and it turned out to be somebody else. He just had one of those faces.

"You okay, man?"

I shook my head a little, turning back to face Sam. "Yeah, sorry. Just, distracted."

Sam closed his locker, snapping the lock back into place and hiking his bag back up on his shoulder. I handed him back his books.

"So, where's Nat?" I asked, realizing for the first time that she wasn't there with us.

"She texted she was hanging out with Clint. Which you would, you know, know. If you weren't such a good-"

"Quit it Wilson," I shoved his arm.

"Aye aye, Captain."

 **Please rate and review!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 (Bucky)

"So what happened?" The teacher looked over to me, smiling. "To, your leg I mean." His voice was loud, but maybe it was just because the classroom was so empty. With the noise of the hall coming in through the open door, the rest of the room had this weird quiet feel to it.

"Looks like it has a pretty exciting story," he went on, trying to make small talk. I couldn't tell if it was painful for both of us or if he was just that oblivious. I shifted my weight to my left arm, my right already aching from walking with the crutches. Not that my left felt any better.

Laughing a bit, he gestured to my leg, "They don't just give out those for the fun of it."

No shit.

He wore an ID on a red lanyard around his neck. The picture looked recent, hair half gone, big grin on his face like he'd just been promoted head boy scout. It had no first name, just Coulson written under the photo above the name of the school.

"Well, you could always come up with something," he continued, uncomfortably shifting where he stood. "Shark attack. Sky diving. Motocross. Do kids do still motocross?" He paused, like he was waiting for something.

If I don't say anything, will he answer himself, or will he just keep going?

"Well, we're glad to have you here at Truman High. And I know I'm just your history teacher, but if there's anything you need, feel free to-"

"Where do I sit?" I asked, trying to shift my weight again.

"Oh! Sorry, I hadn't- here, let me find it..." He quickly turned around and started rummaging around the papers on the top of his ancient desk. It must have been the oldest thing in the room except for the computer resting on it. Damn thing looked like an antique. He shifted a stack of papers to the side and his little brown nameplate looked about ready to make a jump for it. I wished I could do the same.

"It's around here somewhere…" He started pulling out drawers from under the desk, looking through more papers. School only started a week ago, the hell did he have so much stuff for? "Ah! Here." He pulled out a single sheet from between two good sized stacks. It was covered in little boxes.

"Now, where to put you…" He grabbed a pencil from a cup next to the suicidal nameplate. He kept looking between the page and the empty classroom behind me. Took me a moment to realize it was a seating chart, taken from a bird's eye view. "Here," He said, erasing a name from one of the middle rows.

Coulson kept writing on the page, "So it's James, right?"

No, it's Berry Allen.

He looked up at me, a little surprised I hadn't said anything. "You go by James, or Jamie, or…"

"James."

"Right, James it is. So, I think that'll put you just there," he said, pointing to a desk a few steps to my right. In the dead center of the front row. Damn, today was only getting better by the second.

"I know most kids don't like the front, but I figured here, you could spread out if you needed to," he gave another look at my leg. The guy had a point. Didn't change the fact this still sucked ass, but it was true.

I walked toward it, crutches aching under my arms. At least it was close. Even if it was painful, getting there was easy, sitting down was the real hard part. All the desks in the room were old, with hard wooden tops attached by one side to matching wood seats. They looked almost like half moons- or whatever it's called when the moon looks like a mouth. The gap between the seat and the desk was small, small enough that when I fell into it I managed to whack both elbows at the same time.

"Here, I'll take those," Coulson reached for the crutches, and I let him have them. "We can put them just over here until you need them for your next class." He busied himself putting them in a corner of the room, as I shrugged out of my backpack and let it drop to the ground. I let my leg rest out into the front of the room as far as it could. The brace kept it bent at an awkward angle, but I wasn't about to put any weight on it.

"It's probably a good thing you came by early," he started, but just then the bell rang, a weird dinging sound that reminded me of a 7-Eleven. "Oh, well there you go." He said, like it finished his last thought.

Students started trickling in then, bringing the noise from the hallway in with them. The large black clock above the whiteboard read 7:56. Only 7 more hours, 5 days a week, for 4 months.

Just then a kid in a purple shirt crashed down into the seat next to me. "Sorry, sorry," he said, giving me the smallest of smiles. His hair was brown like the eyes behind his glasses- except, it was actually hard to tell their color. They were dilated to the size of dimes. You've gotta be shitting me. Flush ran up the side of the guys neck as he pulled out a binder, a pen, a textbook- paying the utmost attention to each thing.

If I hadn't known what to look for he would have just come off as intense, but I knew that look. That focus. He was hiding it well, but as the bell rang again, I could tell. This guy was high as a fucking kite.

Coulson started talking then, something about weekends, I wasn't listening. Too busy trying to find a way to ask the kid how much he'd charge to let me share.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 (Steve)**

"It's not at the same time as practice," Sam went on, trying to be convincing over the sound of the backhoe.

"I'm not really into engineering," I reminded him.

Between the construction and the crowd, trying to keep up a conversation and was almost impossible now. It hadn't been so bad last year, when they rebuilt the football field at the west end of campus. But now that the administration had gotten permission to tear down and reconstruct the cafeteria, things had gotten a little crazy.

The cafeteria was set in the middle of the school with class buildings surrounding it on 3 sides. To make room for the construction zone and the bulldozers and backhoes and everything, they'd been forced to fence off a large part of the middle of the school. Leaving the only one major hallway for the students to funnel into to get from class to class.

"Its pretty much just building stuff and blowing it up I think," Sam said as we squeezed past a group of girls and the math buildings.

I laughed. "Is that how you proposed the club to the school?"

"Hey boys," Natasha said, coming up along side Sam.

"Hey." It took me a moment to remember she had my same hour for PE this year. Between the construction and the changes in everyone's schedules, it was a little hard to keep up. "Where were you this morning?" I asked as we ducked into the trophy hall.

The alternate route made by the chain link fences brought the stream of traffic along the front of the main gym, making the narrow entry hall to the courts into a sort-of short cut. It was one of the only indoor hallways here, a left over from the school's heyday in the 60's.

"Nat, you've got to help me convince him he's gotta join the engineering club," Sam said. The glass doors protecting the dusty old trophies reflected him as we walked.

Natasha looked between us with a raised brow. "And why would I do that? It's not like I'm in it."

Sam looked surprised. "You're not?"

I couldn't help but laugh a bit at how badly Sam's plan was backfiring. The poor guy.

"And look at him." Nat turned to me. "Student council, leadership class, captain of the water polo team. He's swamped," she said with half a shrug.

When she said it like that, made me feel pretty bad. Because it's not really like that. Yeah, it's a lot, but that doesn't mean I don't have any free time to spend with everyone.

We reached the end of the hall and stepped back out into the sun and sound. The trophy hall let out right by the locker rooms, right where Nat and I needed to be for our next class. Sam had Science in the building just next door.

I stopped walking and turned to Sam. "You know, I could maybe give it a shot. Club meets on Tuesdays right?"

Sam's whole face lit up like I'd told him that rumor about the free soda was true. "Really?" He asked, brown eyes bright and excited.

Nat laughed, giving me a friendly bump on the shoulder before walking away, toward the girl's lockers. "Later boys," she called out behind her. I couldn't tell what the shoulder thing was for, but as she walked away, I couldn't help but think about the point she'd made.

Out of all the time I spent doing extracurriculars, I hardly spent any of it with people I wasn't actually obligated to be with. Leadership, student council, water polo- each one with tryouts and a list of people who don't get in. But a club wouldn't be like that (it couldn't, it was against school policy), and a club with people I liked, people who didn't have to get picked to participate, might be really nice. Something different. A good chance to hang out.

I nodded to Sam, smiling a bit. "Yeah, tell me more about it at lunch, okay?"

Sam beamed at me. "Sure thing," he said before turning and heading back into the crowd with a wave behind him.

I headed the other way, back behind the smaller half-court sub-gym, where the boys' lockers were tucked away. Between last year's water polo in the fall and swim team in the spring, I knew the locker rooms much more than I ever cared to. The beat up green locker doors, the peeling paint, the unholy scent of too many bodies and too much sweat and too little ventilation. It was always weird coming in for PE though.

There were always so many people when I was here during class time. Each class hour had at least 4 separate PE classes going on at the same time, even if more than half the students were girls, that was still left around 40 boys all packed into the same space. The water polo and swim teams were small, with hardly enough members to actually compete. We were closer though, at least most of us were.

I made my way between the rows and rows of lockers to my own. Sam was on the team last year, that's how we got to know each other. He's a good friend, I thought as I worked away at the combination lock. One of his dads had been in the military, the Air Force, and the other was part of the local police. Even though things were pretty different, it kind of felt like we both understood each other because of it.

Even with the team and everything, his dad's service was probably the main reason we became friends. He was a good guy, a good friend, but even after a year of knowing him, we still didn't really know much about each other.

I'd only ever had one best friend. It felt childish to think 'best friend' like that, but, it was true.

I unloaded my PE clothes from the small locker, setting them on the bench behind me as I stowed my backpack in the larger locker. My thoughts going back to Bucky for the second time that morning.

It's not like this is the first time I've thought of him since it all happened. In the first days, when he went missing, there wasn't much else I could think of. Couldn't stop hoping he hadn't gone through with it. Hoping he'd turn up out of the blue, like he used to. That had been a year ago now, and it wasn't a mystery anymore what had happened to him. I shouldn't be expecting him to just appear out of nowhere, saying some stupid joke about being late, about getting caught up with a couple of girls, about-

A voice interrupted my thoughts. "Hey Rogers." I turned to see three guys on the other side of the bench. I didn't recognize two of them, and the one I did, I was pretty sure I didn't know his name. "You know that Romanoff chick right? Natasha." The middle guy asked.

"Dude, Romanoff? Seriously?" The second guy cut in before I could say anything, looking at his friend like he was about ready to laugh.

"I heard she got expelled before coming here," the familiar face added. He sounded almost bored by it, but if I remembered right, he sounded bored by everything. And regardless, I didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Naw man," The second guy said. "That bitch got expelled _three times_ before coming here." I could feel my eyes narrow.

"She's a friend actually," I said to the first guy.

He laughed a bit at that. "So," he started, nodding his head to me a bit, leaning against the lockers to his back. "You getting' some of that?"

He looked at me like he was actually expecting an answer, his friends erupted into laughter at his side.

"Think I'll get me a piece of that?" His smile was as oily as his hair. I could feel my jaw tighten.

The second guy swung a light punch into the first guy's arm, still laughing. "Naw man, that bitch is crazy."

"You know she's already going out with that tight ass Barton," The third guy added.

I couldn't take another second of it. "I don't know," I told him, working to keep the rage out of my voice. "You'd have to ask _her_."

The bell rang before they could say anything back, and by the time it stopped they were talking more amongst themselves than to me. I couldn't have been happier. I went back to my PE clothes, piled on the thin wooden bench. But as I dressed, I couldn't stop thinking about what those idiots had said.

They talked about her like she wasn't even a person, like she was some object, some thing you could trade or buy. It was disgusting.

I stuffed my regular clothes back into the locker. Like it would be up to me what she did with her time. Like there was some way, I or anyone else, could actually control Nat. I closed my locker with a bang, still frustrated, and made my way through the jungle of locker doors and people. The only thing keeping me from finding them and giving me a piece of my mind, was the fact that I actually knew Nat. And I knew she wasn't about to be made into some damsel.

I shook my head as I walked, trying to clear it. Trying to distract myself. Today was Monday, I thought, which meant everyone went out to the track to run laps. And right now, laps didn't sound like a bad idea. But then again, neither did boxing.

The locker room had a weird shape to it, with only one main entrance and exit that lead past a small bathroom everyone avoided, and the PE teachers' offices. And that's where it happened again.

I found myself slowing to a stop as my eyes followed him through the glass windows of the teacher's offices. For the second time that day, I caught myself looking across a room at a boy who looked, for a second there, like Bucky. And just as quick as I noticed him, he was gone.

I speed back up making a beeline for the offices, not thinking about anything except that face. But as I neared the window, there was no one. Just the teachers, an aid, no one else.

Get it together Rogers. I shook my head again- plenty distracted now. But not exactly in the way I wanted to be.

 **Please rate and review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 (Bucky)**

For the third time that day, the bell rang just as I got to the door.

Damn it all. Between the crutches and whatever moron decided to rip out part of the school, my attendance was shot. And the day was only half over.

 _Almost_ half over, I reminded myself. I shifted to open the door to my third class of the day. But like everywhere else in this damn place, it was heavy. My arms ached underneath my weight. I had to work my shoulder in before I could push it open wide enough for the rest of me.

Inside the building, the walls were a yellowed sort of white, the kind of color that looks like it hasn't been white in a long time. Like bad teeth. The floor was an old concrete, cracked and grey, dotted with little drains bolted down into it. The room looked like a prison cell, only instead of bars, it had rows and rows of lockers running down it.

People were everywhere, half clothed, all talking, all moving. But the air. It tasted like it never moved. It stunk like skin and sweat. My nose burned.

From where I was I could see the sign labeling the office. It was past the bathrooms, only 10 feet or so away, but it might as well have been on the other side of the state. With each step I could feel my arms burn and each breath made my stomach feel hot.

A locker door slammed shut. The noise echoed off the floor, off the teeth of the walls. The cold sound of metal hitting metal. Felt like it was everywhere.

I pushed the office door open hard, expecting it to be heavy like every other door in this godforsaken place. It wasn't.

It crashed against the wall with a loud bang, making me jump a little and earning me a disapproving, "What do you think your doing, son?"

The man behind the desk stood up, looking me up and down. He was obviously a PE teacher; the school polo, the running shorts, the aviator sunglasses, all a dead give away. I shifted my weight to pull the note out of my pocket, the one I'd used on the security guard earlier today. I felt like my hand was shaking as I held it out to him.

"And who're you supposed to be?" He asked, taking and flattening the yellow paper. The office was tight, full of file cabinets and metal desks. The large frosted windows along the side let in the light, but I couldn't see through them. They made the room feel hot, too bright. There was someone else there too, probably not much younger than me, sitting behind one of the other desks. He was small, nose buried in a book. For a moment, I thought he liked like Steve.

"Alright." I looked back over to the teacher. He still had my note in his hand, but was back behind his desk, pulling out another clipboard from a drawer. Chester Phillips was written across his little gold nameplate. "Who's your teacher, Barnes?" He asked, writing something down from my note.

The other guy in the room closed a drawer with a clang. Behind me, someone shouted out to someone else. Inside my stomach felt like it had turned to pond water.

"What was that?" Phillips looked up at me, like he hadn't heard what I'd said. Like I was supposed to have said something. It took me a moment to remember.

"I- transferred," I corrected myself quickly. It was hard to think in the heat. The windows, they felt like spotlights.

"Transferred, well…" Phillips looked back down to his work, thumbing through the pages of his clipboard. "You're not one of mine. Probably one of Ward's." He looked up at me like I was supposed to know who that was.

He shrugged and went on, "We'll figure it out at line up. You got your PE clothes?"

I shook my head. My throat felt tight. Like I'd tried swallowing cotton balls.

"Well, here." He stepped out, around his desk, motioning for me to follow. Each step brought pain with it. Made my legs feel heavy. My head felt all clumped up. Like spoiled milk.

He led me to a walk-in closet. The bulb flickered off twice before turning on. It hung by a wire in the middle of the room. I held tighter to my crutches to keep my hands from shaking.

"Your note gets you 4 weeks off. After that's up, you'll need another one. 'Till then, just put on a shirt." He had his back to me, all his attention focused on one of the plastic storage bins. The air felt tight. It was full of shirts, the bin was. The teacher kept pulling them out and checking the labels on the backs of their necks. "And follow your class. We'll worry about getting you shorts when you can walk in 'em," he finished, turning to me and holding out one of the shirts.

It was the color of the floor, and big enough to be a tent. "It's not gonna fit, but it'll work." The teacher turned back to the bins. I put the shirt over my shoulder. "Dress out and line up at the tennis courts with everybody else. You can put your stuff in locker 1A," he turned back around to hand me a flat metal combination lock. It had a paper attached to it like a flag and felt cold in my hand as I took it.

I wrapped a shaking finger around its latch and held back onto my crutches. My chest. Felt tight.

He looked at his wristwatch. "You'll be late, but we'll get you figured out." He clicked the light of, I turned to leave. Back in the office it felt like everything shifted. The cabinets, the walls, everything felt closer. Door was open.

I went for it, but outside the room, the smell. There were still people around. Voices clanging, lockers echoing. No, that doesn't make sense. I shook my head and instantly wished I hadn't. My throat burned.

Bile.

I moved as fast as I could for the bathroom. It was empty. Barreled my way into the large stall. Door hit the jam like a gunshot. I leaned against the wall.

Breathe. I told myself to breathe. The bathroom smelled like piss and bleach and sweat. But it was different. It was, distracting.

The wall was made of cinderblocks, painted over and over, tattooed in sharpie. There was a window though. Up, by the ceiling. Thin, shaped like a shoe box.

From where I was I could see out it. See the sky. The clear blue.

I closed my eyes, turning my head. The brick was cool on my face.

I stayed like that, gulping down the foul air. With each breath, I felt more like an actual person again. And with each breath, I wished I didn't. I wished I wasn't breathing. Not anymore. Not after everything.

 **Please rate and review!**


End file.
